


The First Conquest

by anonymous_moose



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Drama, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 00:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_moose/pseuds/anonymous_moose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The victorious king returns home from war, to find a broken home, and usurpers at his door. Post ME3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Conquest

_"Victory! Once more, the krogan have done what was needed, what the galaxy could not have done alone!_

_Now, I ask you, brave brothers and sisters, to follow me once again, into a far more difficult fight."_

_\- Urdnot Wrex, the 'First Conquest' speech, 2188_

* * *

"This is your krannt?" He laughed mockingly. "Pathetic."

Wrex could not remember a time when a Crush had gone well. He knew this would be no exception. He had come armored in his heavy Urdnot clan suit, unarmed but for the blade at his hip, as tradition dictated, and accompanied only by his closest personal guard. In this case, Urdnot Grunt.

Bruhk had brought four of his men, and if he were a better krogan, he might realize that this itself would be a sign of weakness, but he either didn't know or didn't care. The young ones were like that these days. Big and strong for their age, Wrex thought as he ran his eyes over them, but no real scars that he could see, so no real experience. Grunt eyed them suspiciously, bright blue eyes scanning as they fanned out into a loose semi-circle on the opposite side of the large round room in the heart of an old city power plant that had been chosen as neutral ground.

"Speak your piece, whelp, and be done with it," he said. Some of Bruhk's men bristled at his insult, clenching their fists and growling. Pointless posturing.

"So be it," Bruhk shot back, his deep voice booming with a command that was beyond his years. Wrex could see how he had attracted his followers. The foolish were often easily manipulated.

"I know your plans for our people, Wrex," he continued, smiling as he heard his voice echoed off the high walls.  _Vain idiot._  "You would deny what makes us strong! You would deny what makes us  _krogan!"_

Wrex couldn't help the wide smile that found its way onto his face. "You remind me of someone, whelp. He said the same thing."

"Of course!" Bruhk pointed one of his three fingers accusingly. "Any right-thinking krogan would speak these words!"

"Would you like to know how he died?" Wrex continued, ignoring him. "I'm sure Grunt remembers the details."

"Painfully," Grunt said simply, eyes still shifting between the four warriors on either side of Bruhk.

"You cannot fight forever, Wrex," Bruhk's voice lowered dangerously, his face curving into a mocking sneer. "You are old. It is coming time for a new generation of leadership."

"And that would be you?" Wrex laughed, brief and barking. "Baruk Bruhk, High Chief of Tuchanka. I thought this was a Crush, not a comedy."

Bruhk's sneer turned superior. "You think yourself untouchable? You think that all Tuchanka fears you? I do not!"

"Then you're an idiot."

"Not all are so gullible as to believe your 'war stories,' Wrex!" He turned briefly to his men. "Killing a Reaper?" He said, raising his arms in a shrug, and prompting them to laugh derisively on command. "And this human, this  _Shepard-"_

"Choose your next words carefully, whelp, or they will be your last." Wrex cared nothing for idle threats or insults, particularly from weaklings like Bruhk, but there were some things he would not allow to go unpunished. Grunt seemed to feel the same way, judging by the way he bared his teeth as his eyes flashed back to Bruhk.

"You are outnumbered, Urdnot Wrex," Bruhk said, drawling out the words in that melodramatic way of his. Sarcasm dripped from his voice. "Even the great and powerful hero of the Reaper War would be hard-pressed to win  _this_  fight."

"You think so?" Wrex asked mildly.

"Oh, I know so." He reached up and snapped his fingers.  _Hell, but this boy is a performer, isn't he._

On cue, a small stream of krogan stomped in from the two other entrances to the left and right, all bearing clan Baruk colors and armor. Fifteen in all, bringing their total to twenty. As expected, Bruhk cared nothing for honor, tradition, or fair play, as long as he got what he wanted.

Wrex sighed. His father had been the same way.

"Have you any last words, High Chief?" Bruhk asked, grinning widely.

"Are these your best?"

He hesitated, the grin almost giving way to confusion before he was able to bluster out, "These are the finest warriors clan Baruk has!"

"Good." Wrex keyed something on his omni-tool. "Then there will be no one left to lead clan Baruk when you're all dead."

The walls high above exploded as the shape charges detonated, raining concrete and debris of not-insignificant size on the Baruk warriors. This did little damage. What did, however, were the Urdnot and Lorkhan warriors who lept from the newly formed entrances directly onto the twenty young krogan, red and yellow armor smashing into the blue, curved and jagged blades flashing through armor and plated flesh.

Wrex had chosen this location for a reason. The high, bare walls and intact ceiling appeared to allow for entrance only through one of the four main doors, but since it was on the ground floor and near the center of the building, it was surrounded by rooms on all sides and all levels. His men had been here since the night before, planting shape charges and keying themselves up for a brief and bloody fight. It only required the basest creativity to see the possibility of a trap, but whatever else Bruhk was, he wasn't creative.

Grunt charged into the fray, heading left to aid his Urdnot brothers with a particularly bothersome crowd of Baruk. Wrex strode forward slowly, in no hurry. His orders had been clear - Bruhk was his alone.

He had bet that Bruhk would run - quite literally, he had a solid hundred credits on it - but the young krogan surprised him. He scanned around, saw the entire situation going to shit in a hurry, and instead of fleeing like the coward he was, he drew his blade and charged Wrex, screaming a battlecry.

Wrex had thought he was more cowardly than stupid, and he had been wrong. He frowned slightly, disappointed in his judgment of character, but quickly shrugged it off. Biotic blue flared around him and he didn't break his stride. In a matter of moments, it wouldn't matter what Baruk Bruhk had or had not been.

* * *

"Pay up."

Wrex turned from the viewport on the side of the tank and dug a credit chit out of a pouch on the lower back of his armor. He handed it to the Lorkhan chief with a frown.

"Really thought he would run."

"The young ones are stupid, High Chief," the other man said, heavy voice rasping slightly as he placed his hands on his knees and leaned back against the hard metal of his seat. "But they are still krogan."

Wrex took a seat across from him, his eyes searching. There were a handful of people he trusted in the galaxy. There was only one on Tuchanka. Lorkhan Kirn was making headway on increasing that number to two.

"With any luck, the next generation will be smarter than the last."

Kirn nodded. "With any luck," he repeated, a bit quiet.

They were alone in the tank, but for the driver sealed in the cockpit. Grunt had elected to ride home to the Urdnot camp with the rest of the men, and Wrex had allowed it. He built camaraderie everywhere he went, that one. Connected with the rest in ways that Wrex simply couldn't anymore, being in the position he was. He needed that perspective, and he could use their kinship and loyalty to Grunt should the need arise.

He felt slimy all of a sudden. Like a salarian politician, talking about his friends and clan and what he could 'use' them for. He stood and paced over to the viewport again, staring out at the sunblasted wasteland of Tuchanka and thinking about how much simpler his life was when he didn't care about anything.

Somehow sensing that Wrex needed to speak, Kirn asked, "What shall we do with what remains of clan Baruk?"

"Adopt those who are willing, and abandon those who aren't." He braced one big arm against the roof of the tank as it rumbled over particularly rough terrain. "Same as ever."

"This isn't the end. There are others who will oppose what you plan for our people."

"Then they'll die or be left behind," Wrex barked. "Let their clan fade into memory. Let their songs and rituals and traditions and customs all be forgotten if that's what they want. I won't let them hold us back."

"Clan Lorkhan is with you, High Chief," Kirn said sternly. "To whatever end."

Wrex half-turned and peered at him with one eye. "Why?"

Kirn blinked, bright beady eyes beneath a wide, furrowed brow. "What?"

"Why do you follow me?" Wrex asked simply.

He paused, considering how to answer. "Lorkhan followed you because our chief was a fool to challenge you with the Reapers at our door. Then they followed you because of your leadership on Earth, how you brought us to the greatest fight the galaxy would ever know and let us earn our glory alongside Urdnot. Now we follow you because you have earned our respect, and we give it in kind."

"That's not what I asked." Wrex turned fully and regarded him from behind crossed arms. "I asked why  _you_  follow me."

When Kirn did not immediately offer an answer, Wrex continued. "The krogan have never been unified. Men and women have never answered to anyone but their clan. You could have marched them all out of the Urdnot camp. Still could, and no one would argue. At least, not until someone challenged you for leadership."

Eventually, Kirn nodded. Wrex frowned.

"Then speak. No posturing or sucking up. I get enough of that from the other clan leaders."

Kirn crossed his arms and pointedly looked away. "You'll mock me."

"I'll do a lot worse if you don't start talking."

The Lorkhan chief growled deep in his chest. His head bowed slightly, a strange gesture of contrition. Or introspection.

"I follow you because I want my children to be proud."

Wrex blinked. Kirn turned his head towards him and met his eyes with his own.

"I follow you because I want them to be able to hold their heads high on a world beyond Tuchanka. To not be the subject of suspicion. To say without shame,  _'I am krogan,'_  and have that mean something to someone who isn't."

He was right. A handful of years ago, Wrex  _would_  have mocked him. A krogan, a good one anyway, desired no one's respect but his own. But so much had happened since then. Now, with the genophage cured and the war over, and particularly now that Bakara was with child, he found he understood Kirn's sentiment all too well.

Children. How they changed things. Made visible some things he had never seen before, and made clearer others that had been so muddled. It still hadn't quite sunk in. Probably wouldn't at all until he held the puny things in his arms, slick with blood, and spoke their names aloud for the first time.

"How many?" He asked, a little startled at himself. Before, that wasn't a question that was asked - it was almost an insult.

Kirn's head lowered again, just slightly. "Two. Soon."

Wrex smiled softly. As softly as a krogan could. "Same here."

Kirn looked up and his eyes hardened. Wrex heard his gloves squeak against his armored knees as he gripped them tighter.

"Are we ready?" He asked, almost desperately. The deliberate vagueness of his question was not lost on Wrex, so he didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

"Do you really believe that?"

He shrugged. "I have to."

"Now who's avoiding the question?" Lorkhan Kirn stood up and stretched to his full height to better look Wrex in the eye. The armor on his hump scraped the roof of the tank. "Tell me the truth, Wrex. Do you think the krogan are capable of more?"

There was a silence. The only sound was the hum of the tanks engine and the clatter of rubble and debris kicked up by it's many wheels. Kirn would not back down from this. Wrex knew he would have to answer.

Truth be told, he  _did_  have some doubts. It was impossible not to. Not one month back and already fending off an insurrection. What did that say about his people? His world? Their future? What did that say about his chances, attempting to do what had never been done before?

And what did it say about him that he was still willing to try? Wrex had always been stubborn, but he had never been an idealist. He wondered where he had picked that up from. Shepard, probably.

"The krogan should not forget who or what we are," he said slowly, "but it will not limit us. Not anymore. Yes, Kirn, we  _are_  capable of more. More than anyone in this galaxy thinks. And if I have to carve a path through idiots like Bruhk, and drag every single one of these quadless pyjaks kicking and screaming into a better future, then so be it."

Kirn held his gaze for a moment, then sat back down and seemed to relax. "I suppose I just needed to hear you say it."

Wrex grunted. "Maybe I needed to hear myself say it."

"Clan Lorkhan is with you, Urdnot Wrex." Kirn reiterated as he crossed his arms and closed his eyes. "To whatever end."

As he turned back to the viewport, Wrex couldn't help but ask. "What if I'd said it was a lost cause?"

He could hear the grin even if he couldn't see it. "Even if we haven't got a chance, it'll still be a hell of a fight."

Wrex grinned at his own reflection in the glass. "Long as you're willing to spill a little blood, I think our chances are better than that."

Kirn barked a laugh, and Wrex let his eyes refocus on the world passing by outside the viewport. They were closing in on the Urdnot camp. It was no better than any other place on Tuchanka, just had the most krogan and most supplies. The whole world was a blown out wasteland of ruined cities, endless deserts, constant dust storms and a hazy sky broken only by the flaring brightness of their sun. No intact roads, no functioning utilities, and no real vegetation to speak of. The only things that survived were things that could survive  _anywhere_  - varren, klixen, harvesters, thresher maws, and the krogan.

The Reapers hadn't done this. They hadn't even bothered to begin exterminating what remained of Tuchanka before the war had ended. It wasn't even the salarians and their sterility plague. This had been before the genophage. Even before the uplift, when they had come to the still-primitive krogan and given them FTL ships and fancy new guns and threw them at the invading rachni swarms.

No, this was thorough, and brutal. Planetwide destruction on the scale that only a full nuclear exchange could bring.

This was krogan work.

And as the tank pulled into the tunnel that led to the center of the Urdnot camp, Wrex shook his head and grumbled quietly that only the krogan could be so stupid.

* * *

_"The krogan fight, and the krogan conquer. That is who and what we are, and it will not be denied. The krogan must have an enemy, for it is in the fight for our lives that we know what survival truly means._

_And there are many great fights yet to come. We will begin with the greatest foe that our people have ever known! To fight and defeat that which has killed more krogan than any other in our long and bloody history!_

_The first conquest of the united krogan people shall be Tuchanka!"_

_\- Urdnot Wrex, the 'First Conquest' speech, 2188_


End file.
